My husband might disagree with me but Dubai is a magical city of illusion. An illusion, for me, that I’d rather skip next time. Let me explain why.

After landing in Accra, Ghana, Christian and I started feeling restless. We had a full five days before our West Africa tour would start. We had already spent three days in Accra before heading off to Sao Tome & Principle and we had gotten the feeling that we had hit the four major tourist destinations. We had the option to spend the next week in Accra, travel around Ghana hitting points we’d see on our tour anyway or go somewhere else for a couple of days.

I suggested we check out Côte d’Ivoire just an hour flight away. While it would be pretty last minute to find tours, I was confident any hotel we stayed at would help us. Christian was less convinced. He wanted to go somewhere totally different. On his list had always been Dubai. For him it seemed like the perfect mix between relaxation and city. We looked up our options and found economy direct flights on Emirates from Accra to Dubai for a decent price. Then we added up our points and figured we could stay for 4 days at the Hilton Dubai Jumeirah with a semi-private beach for just the cost of taxes.

Considering the options, more city or more beach/city, it seemed more than worth it. So, the next day we were off to Dubai. I was nervous, of course. I had recent memories of what it had been like to ensure I was covered up while traveling through South East Asia and I was not thrilled with the prospect that we would be traveling to a conservative country where kissing and cursing could land you in jail.

Upon landing most of my fear dissipated. It felt like any modern city but just with a lot of unspoken rules. We took a taxi driven by an Ethiopian woman from the airport to the hotel. Leaving the airport and hitting the freeway you are surrounded by sand and high-rise buildings. Everything sparkles with glitter and money and you realized you’ve stepped into a future beyond your imagination.

I felt almost intimidated. As a new New Yorker my sense of pride in America’s biggest city was greatly bruised. Clean streets, skyscrapers stretching farther than the eye can see, huge multi-dimensional freeway systems, and Ferraris and Porsches in every lane. This clearly was the epicenter of unfathomable wealth.

After checking into our hotel, we ventured out by shuttle to Dubai’s great mall where you can visit the Burj Khalifa, the world’s tallest building that also has the world’s tallest outdoor deck, there’s the dancing fountains, two aquariums with sharks, a skating rink, hundreds of high ends shops and restaurants, floor after floor of shoes, what appears to be a zoo, and of course a movie theater. All that was missing was an amusement park and I imagine one day they will add that too. It was all overwhelming and equally fascinating. I started to feel like I got it, this is why everyone’s Instagram was filled with images of Dubai.

The next day we booked an early morning hot air balloon tour  with Platinum Heritage and a city tour. Then we scheduled dinner with an old college friend. The crisp air in the morning of Dubai was in direct contrast to its miserably hot afternoons. On the drive to the desert and wildlife conservatory the city fell behind us and the skyscrapers were replaced by sand dunes and the occasional mansion.

Once in the desert we all got a safety lesson on what to do while in the hot air balloon and we watched them be filled up with gas from the fire. Then they piled 12 of us together with a bird trainer, a guide, and a balloon driver and up we went. Watching the ground disappear from your view and the desert come alive in scope was breathtaking, as the sun rose and filled the air with rosy clouds.

Up in the air.

Then a gasp from the captain and suddenly I was standing next to a fire. The balloon driver panicked and everyone went silent. The gas blowing into the air balloon had caught fire and it was clear by the look of utter panic on the driver’s face that this was not normal.

No one said a word. Time slowed and we all watched as the guide took charge, putting out the fire and switching to a propane tank not in use. He phoned for help and informed us that we’d be making an emergency landing. He began barking orders at the driver and suddenly the constant chirp of what I assumed to be emergency beeps filled the air from the gas readers in the hot air balloon. It was the longest five minutes of my life. Every second taking shallow breaths watching the ground get closer and calculating how much the fall would hurt if we lost control at this minute, what about the next?

Safely on the ground I reserved never to get in another hot air balloon. We were then told that we could rebook for another day or take our money back. I rose my hand “Refund Please” I said.

After the emergency landing. Waiting to be picked up from the middle of nowhere.

The rest of the morning was occupied by breakfast and then by an hour long “safari” drive through the desert to see Dubai’s desert elk. That peaceful ride was a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the morning.

After being dropped back at the hotel we napped for a few hours before starting the Dubai City tour. That was when the “real” Dubai was revealed to me. On the tour, our guide, a foreigner from eastern Europe, explained to us the system of immigration to Dubai.

No one, except the children of Emeriti parents or the wife of an Emeriti can become a citizen. Most people live their lives in a precarious situation in Dubai. Without work, you’d get deported. Commit a petty crime, you’d get deported. If you were a foreign man who married an Emirati woman, she’d inherit none of the privileges of Emirati citizenship and the husband could never become a citizen. For a foreign woman married to an Emirati man, the man also forfeits many of the benefits of citizenship, including free housing, education, etc., but the woman’s citizenship is tied to her marriage. If she is divorced from her husband than she will be deported but her children and the husband will remain in UAE. The system seemed skewed toward exploitation, and yet 90% of the residents of Dubai were foreign born. Obviously there’s enough benefit over cost to drive many people from all over the world to UEA.

The city of Dubai itself was a mix of contrasts and what felt like tourist traps.

The Museum of Dubai was small and somewhat impressive

The buildings of Dubai were endlessly impressive

The Bazaars of Dubai in its old quarters were mainly built for tourist and had over eager sellers

The Golden Souk of Dubai was dimly lit and felt unattainable.

In fact, nothing impressed me outside of the skyscrapers and the massive desert. It was even more astonishing that everything we saw had likely been built within in the last 30 to 50 years.  Dubai is truly a new city built on enterprise, oil, and finance. It felt, increasing fake, and like an illusion to me. Where could history show itself?

CC: Jasmine Nears-Biesinger

Dubai felt like a tourist adult Candyland. Race car tracks, small worlds where you can purchase anything, private beaches, all the experiences money could buy. I felt drawn in and simultaneously repulsed. It was all temporary and fleeting for anyone not Emeriti and that was the way it was supposed to be.

After the city tour we choose not to go back with the tour. We were meeting my friend 30 minutes away in the area anyway. We walked around and got behind the gold souk to “old Dubai” and suddenly it felt a bit more real to me. A bit more familiar. Hidden behind the skyscrapers lined near the waterfront are normal apartments with the largely immigrant population of Dubai running around living their everyday lives. I almost wished we had more time to explore. We did sit down at a cafe. A simple place with red plastic chairs outside and a menu of smoothies, kebabs, and french fries. WE had two delicious fruits smoothies and watched people walk home to and fro. Time when work ends and begins is uncertain here since many people are employed in the tourism industry.

On our last night there after enjoying drinks at the beach and listening to decent covers of Billboard’s top 100s we ventured out to the desert once more on tour. There we were dropped off at a camp while our comrades who had accompanied us went sand dune bashing. I looked around, there were at least 100 people walking around the dunes. Taking pictures with camels, waiting in line for 20 minutes for a 5-minute ride on the poor beasts, running down dunes, selfie sticks in hands. Christian gleefully ran off to join the line as I, thinking about my Mongolian Camel experience, opted out.

I sat on a dune and watched the sunset as the sand became cold underneath me. Perhaps the only real thing in Dubai was the sand, I thought. It was disappointing to say the least.

After the sun set we were treated to a BBQ of lamb, a drum show, and a fire show by a Brazilian paid to show the UEA traditional fire dance. We applauded and I watched as everyone took drinks.

CC: Jasmine Nears-Biesinger

“Yeah, I guess. But I enjoyed the Camel rides.”

I looked forward to boarding the plane in the next few hours to go back to Accra. Back to something that felt more real and honest.

While leaving Dubai I expressed to Christian my disappointment.

“It feels so fake.” I said.

“What?” He asked.

“Dubai. There’s no history. There’s no connection to the past. It’s all new and glittery. An adult play land lacking personality.” I responded.

He looked at me for a long period of time. Then finally he responded “Yeah, I guess. But I enjoyed the Camel rides.”

So, there you have it. Dubai. A magical city of illusion. Great for a vacation of indulgence for those who want it that way.

But for me. I’d rather skip Dubai.

What DO YOU like of dislike about Dubai?

Do you agree with my sentiment or think I’ve missed something?

If you are checking out Dubai and want to escape the city. Check out my post about my Day Trip To Oman To See Dolphins.

A few more Dubai Gems:

Waiting to take flight on my first and only short-lived air balloon flight.

Because everyone did it.

Riding in out 1950’s Jeep on Safari.

Hot air ballon filling up before sunrrise. CC: Jasmine Nears-Biesinger